


What Is And Could Never Be

by San



Category: Duran Duran
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/San/pseuds/San
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stranded on the tarmac, John and Nick chat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is And Could Never Be

He's closed his eyes to deal with some inner pain; the lashes lie dark against his fair skin. An incongruous shade, until you look at his brown roots. I resist the urge to reach over the plush seat to spread his part, to see how much more silver there is. He'd never forgive me - any more than I'd forgive him.

He feels my gaze and opens his eyes. Whatever's eating him is digging in to a particularly raw spot - their green is particularly intense. Probably Julie or Taji again.

"What?"

I shake my head. He looks back out the window. Lightning splits the sky. We're the only two in first class on this flight; I've got some legal wrangling to do in England, and he's headed for home. We're both taking a break from the other three in the studio.

"Couldn't they have delayed us in the terminal?" he finally grouses, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

"We may yet end up back there," I say with a shrug, watching the rain pounding on the windows reflected on his face. The storm is fierce. "You wouldn't like that any better."

He grimaces. "It's less claustrophobic."

"True. But there are more people, and the seats are less comfortable." I lean back in the seat and stretch, demonstrating. He fights a grin, unsuccessfully. "Suppose we'll ever rate our own jet again?"

"I profoundly hope not," he answers, tartly. "Simon will probably want to learn how to fly it."

I wrinkle my nose.

"Has he always been this much of an adrenaline junkie?"

Nick arcs an eyebrow at me, the look knowing.

"Yes, yes. I drive too fast and engage in other unsafe behaviours. I've never yet gone off and nearly drowned myself."

"He's terribly put out that you won't forgive him for that, too."

"Yes," I answer, dryly, "terribly."

"You do know how to hold a grudge, Johnny." He's turned around in his seat now, to get a better look at me.

My turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Pot."

"Kettle."

Okay. I'm smirking. He gives the expression right back to me, though, before he undoes his seatbelt and comes around to sit next to me.

"You're right." He tries to resist, but it escapes him anyway. "This time."

There are things I could say, but they would spoil his changed mood. We sit quietly for a while, staring out the window at the pounding rain. The captain comes on the line to let us know that he's still waiting for the weather to ease, or clearance from the tower. It's not quite clear which. Someone needs to let him know how to use that microphone properly.

"I wouldn't want to be in the air in this anyway," Nick comments.

"Me either. Am I forgiven yet?"

That draws his attention away from the flickering lightning outside the window and back to my face. "Did you think you weren't?"

"You've been..." I hunt for a word that won't provoke an argument.

"Yes." His gaze goes back out the window. "Has nothing to do with you, John."

"Everything okay with Taji?"

"Taji's fine. Julie's fine, for a change." The laugh, when it comes, is less bitter than I expect. "At some point we appear to have turned into adults."

"Having a teenaged daughter will do that to you," I observe. "Worked for Simon. Mostly."

Nick sighs. The stewardess walks through, checking to see if we need anything. We both shake our heads.

"How's whatsherface?"

"Nice, John."

"It's gotten almost as hard to keep your women straight as it once was with Simon," I point out, to which truth he shrugs.

"You know his commentary on that."

"Yes." Crude. Typical of Simon, actually. "Is that the reason for your string of blondes?"

Another shrug. I drop my head against his.

"I could dye my hair blonde again."

He sits back, studying my face.

"Don't you dare. It looked appalling." I laugh, and his mouth twists. "That's exactly the reaction you were looking for."

"Not exactly. But it's the one I expected."

The rain eases a bit, and the turbines on the wing begin to whir. Nick rests his head on my shoulder. "Perhaps we should have covered another song on 'Thank You,'" he says, softly.

"What's that?"

"'Love the One You're With.'"

He twines his strong fingers in mine and we both sigh. The captain announces that we're about to depart and the engines whine high. Nick's gone to sleep by the time the plane levels off, leaving me with not Crosby, Stills and Nash but Led Zeppelin in my head.


End file.
